


No Surprise

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Flashfic challenge, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 03, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: On a visit to his parents' house, Jack is not surprised by a late-night visitor.





	No Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> For the flashfic challenge! Whoo, this is hard, but exhilarating (that's what she said)! I used the prompts “sky, silk, and smoke”; I’d intended to use “surprise, butler, setting: Jack’s parent’s house” but, well, things don’t always turn out the way we plan, do they? That “butler” word just didn’t seem to fit, somehow. :D

The house was quiet. The warm summer night meant that the windows were open to allow the night breeze to circulate. His parents had gone to bed hours ago, and he knew that they’d expected that Phryne would stay in the room they’d assigned her upon their arrival. They didn’t know his Miss Fisher.

It was no surprise to Jack when she sidled through the door of his bedroom, her blue silk robe with its bright embroidery rustling softly as the latch caught with a muted _click_ behind her.

“Phryne, what are you…” His protests were token at best—she was temptation itself, especially when she opened her robe to reveal nothing between it and her skin. She shone in the moonlight, the alabaster paleness of her body with its rose-tipped breasts and the shadow between her thighs a vision that he had no real intention of resisting.

“Shhhh, Jack,” she whispered. “We don’t want to wake the household.”

“If you come in here, I can’t be held responsible—” he choked on the words, his body launching almost painfully to attention as she crawled beneath the covers of his bed. When she straddled him, the heat of her sex pressing against his already hard cock, all thoughts of protest left him.

Her mouth covered his, and the comfortable cotton pajamas he’d donned when he’d readied himself for bed now seemed uncomfortably restrictive. He slid his hands up her back and around to his buttons, only getting distracted by the smooth skin of her breasts and her tightly puckered nipples once or twice; her fingers tangled with his as she tried to help him rid himself of the fabric that kept them apart.

Phryne’s hips rolled against his as her hands stroked down his chest, her fingernails scraping softly across his nipples. She lifted her head, smiling down at him, and he knew that his face must reflect the hunger that was gripping his body.

“Your parents seem like good people, Jack,” she whispered. “I will admit, when you said they lived in Sydney to be close to your sister, I thought it would be unlikely that I’d meet them, but I’m happy to have had the chance.”

Jack’s sister had married a young man she’d met at school, and in the ten years since he’d come back—thankfully unscathed—from the war, she’d been steadily supplying his parents with grandchildren. He supposed that he could count himself fortunate that they’d given up on his producing any children of his own—especially given the nature of the woman whose hands were currently tugging at the fastenings of his pajama trousers.

“Phryne, I—” his breath left him in a soft groan as her hands wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down his length.

“It will be a challenge,” she said, her voice soft as smoke on the warm currents of the night air, “for you to stay quiet, darling.” 

He forced his eyes to open, not realizing that they’d fallen shut, and glanced down his body to where she now lay between his legs, his pajamas pooled around his knees. The summer-sky blue of her eyes held the warmth of the sun, and she watched his face as her hands worked their magic.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he managed, and watched the smile slide over her face. It stretched her lips, then rounded her cheeks before crinkling the corners of her eyes, a migration that he found fascinating every single time.

“All right, then,” she murmured, her breath hot as her words wound around his aroused flesh, “I’m certain that you’ll manage. I’ll just continue on as I was, shall I?”

Before he could respond, she drew the flat of her tongue from his base up and around the head of his cock. Jack gritted his teeth, breath hissing in as he filled his lungs. How was it possible that she’d been in his room for only minutes and the very air carried the essence of her—French perfume, musky arousal, and woman? 

“Do your worst, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, knowing that her worst—like the woman herself—would likely be sublime.

Tilting her head at him, Phryne held his eyes as she took his cock head between her lips. He could feel her tongue probing at the seam on its underside, then fluttering against the hole at its tip; he dropped one hand to cup her neck, and the other clenched on the pillow beside his head. With one smooth movement, Phryne took him all the way into her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as the soft head of his cock bumped gently across her tongue. Jack rolled his lips together to hold in the moan that threatened to escape.

Her mouth was a wonder, and Jack closed his eyes to revel in the hot wetness that engulfed him. The tease of her tongue, the soft suction on his head, and the slight graze of her teeth combined to catapult him into a state of bliss that he had never, before Phryne, imagined was possible. The pressure built until it was all he could do to keep the movements of his hips gentle as she worked him; his hand on her neck slid into her hair, holding on as his world narrowed to nothing more than the warm, wet cave of her mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, after long minutes that seemed to stretch like taffy in the sun, “I’m close, Phryne.”

If anything, her movements quickened, and each slide from his base to his tip, each moment of suction around his glans felt like glory. When his orgasm overtook him, Jack pulled the pillow to cover his face, its weight a soft counterpoint to the pulsing of his release; his teeth closed on the soft cotton, muffling his hoarse cry.

When he came back to himself, lifting the pillow away, it was to find Phryne—her lips plumped with their labors, her eyes heavy-lidded with arousal—lying atop his chest, her cheek warm against his skin and her hand softly working his still half-hard cock. 

“You are a miracle,” he said softly against her hair. His arms closed around her, one holding her close and the other sweeping up her side to cover her breast, his thumb toying with her nipple.

Phryne tilted her head to meet his eyes, her smile satisfied. “Do you know what it does to me, Jack Robinson, to see you lose control?” Moving up to cover his mouth with hers, she swept her tongue between his lips, and he could taste the echo of himself in her kiss. His hand tightened in her hair, and he deepened the kiss, wanting more.

“I hope,” he murmured, when she finally pulled away, “that making me lose control brings you pleasure?”

“Mmm,” she confirmed, sipping at his lower lip. “It does, though tonight, my hands weren’t quite enough.”

“Well, then,” he said, smiling into her kisses, “it sounds like I have some work to do.” He rolled with her, pushing her back to the mattress as he kicked his feet free of his pajama bottoms and slid down to lie between her knees. “Better grab that pillow, Miss Fisher.” Her eyes laughed into his. “I can recommend its sound-muffling qualities.”

Her soft laughter turned to gasps as he buried his face between her thighs. As her flavor hit his tongue, salty and sweet at once, he knew that he’d be doing everything in his power to be sure that she needed that pillow. Fair was fair, after all, and he was a man who took pride in giving as good as he got. And if he could manage it, better.


End file.
